


Breaking Rules

by queenofpendragons



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, Hook-Up, Lesbian Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26005945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofpendragons/pseuds/queenofpendragons
Summary: You’re the bartender, Cosima is a patron waiting for a Tinder date but gets stood up. You end up going home with her and trying some of her 'special' brownies, and things get a little frisky...
Relationships: Cosima Niehaus/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Breaking Rules

**Author's Note:**

> This is just because I'm utterly in love with Cosima Niehaus and did my annual OB rewatch recently. So here's some reader smut for the other Cosima whores !

You’re used to the typical Tinder meetup on a Friday night, having the best seat in the house to watch something either flourish or completely burn from behind the bar. You can’t help but get invested, listening in on the tentative conversation between strangers who don’t know much about each other beyond name, age, and sexual preference. There’s always that same thick, woolly blanket of awkwardness hanging around both people for the first twenty minutes at least, and from that point on either it goes really well, or completely flatlines.

On this particular Friday night, it’s pretty obvious that the dreadlocked, bespectacled woman sitting alone at the bar is nervously awaiting a companion she hasn’t met in person before now. She checks her phone every few minutes, the bright pink hue of the dating app reflecting in the lenses of her well-suited glasses, and mostly ignores the pint of beer you poured her ten minutes ago. She’s pretty, really pretty—and _definitely_ gay. You don’t yet have confirmation on that assumption, but your radar’s been going off since she stepped foot in the place.

As you finish serving another customer, you walk back over to find her chewing at her thumb, cat-lined eyes boring holes in the wooden front door of the bar. Poor thing—does she think her eyes are magnets? They won’t magically draw in whoever she’s waiting for, whoever doesn’t seem to be coming at this point. It’s been at least twenty minutes now.

“Hey,” you say, and it takes her a moment to register that she’s being spoken to. Reluctantly, she tears her eyes away from the entrance, turning a little in her bar stool. “Drink this,” you finish, a warm twinkle in your eye.

You finish pouring a whisky shot, sliding it over to her.

“ _Oh_ , nah, I’m good with the beer,” the brunette insists with a lax smile, gesturing at the pint she’s barely touched.

“Listen—I’m getting anxiety just watching you,” you say as you begin mixing another drink for a customer on the other side of the bar, deft hands snatching up each ingredient as you go. “You won’t get drunk off the one, but you’ll be more relaxed when they show up. It’s on the house, too.”

You reach for a slice of lime to top off the drink, meeting her eyes just as you stick it on the rim of the glass. She seems to be contemplating your offer, and as you turn away to deliver the drink, you see her reach out for the shot glass in the corner of your eye. By the time you’ve walked back over, the glass is empty. With a triumphant, knowing smirk, you take the glass to put it with the other dirty glasses below the counter.

“Um, hey—thanks for that,” she says, the depths of her eyes filled with gratitude. “Also… how’d you know I’m waiting for someone?”

“Something about the way you were pretty much vibrating in your seat, the constant checking your phone,” you reply with some nonchalance, though a smile turns your lips upward. “And I’ve been working behind a bar long enough to know. Plus, you’ve been eyeing the door for the past twenty-five minutes.”

“I couldn’t have been more obvious, could I?” she laughs nervously, though already she seems to be visibly relaxing. Her posture has loosened and there’s less tightness to her flawless skin.

“No,” you say, grinning now. “It’s okay. I’m more worried about the ones who look like they might puke from the nerves.”

“I wouldn’t screw you over like that,” she insists with an adorable laugh, fingers curling around the short neck of the beer glass. “The shot really did help though. How many nervous wrecks do you do that for?”

You meet her gaze, and honestly reply, “Only you, actually.” She seems equal parts surprised, amused, and flattered by this answer.

“What’s so special about me to be the first?” she inquires. You concentrate for a minute on pouring a few shots for a nearby party of four, who are already drunk as shit and pressuring each other to do _“one more, just one more”._

“I’m still figuring that out. I’ll get back to you, hm?”

She blinks, smiling, and as you deliver the shots to the overactive group of friends, she checks her phone. It’s been half an hour now, and disappointment creeps onto her face. You get the feeling she hasn’t heard back from her date.

“Think I could consider myself stood up by now?” she asks in a slightly dulled voice, despite her attempts at being lighthearted. She grabs her glass, gulping down some beer. Sympathetically, you grimace as you dry a glass with your rag.

“No text or anything, huh?”

“None. I guess she wasn’t that interested after all.”

 _BOOM_ , there it is. Somehow, the confirmation of her non-heterosexuality makes you slightly giddy, and you wipe off the glass in your hands with a little too much enthusiasm.

She drops her gaze to her drink, chewing on her lower lip with sharp, white teeth.

“Well, she’s missing out,” you can’t help but say, and immediately her attention is drawn back upward. “I don’t really know you, but you seem like a catch. You’re hot, anyway.”

She laughs at that, revealing the prettiest smile you’ve likely ever seen. She adjusts her glasses, shaking her head and still smiling as she responds to that. “Is _that_ why you poured me a free shot?”

“Might’ve been part of it. I wouldn’t have told you that before you realized you’d been stood up though. It’s okay now, I think.”

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees, resting her elbow on the bar and her chin on her hand. She gives you this mesmerizing look, and for a second you forget what drink you’re supposed to be making until you glance at the bottle in your hand and realize you need tequila, not vodka. You refocus, grabbing the correct liquor as she gazes at you with soft, hazel hues.

“I think I’ll take another shot, if that’s okay with you,” she requests. “Whisky again. Bad to mix, right?”

“Sure,” you agree, refraining from explaining that that’s sort of a myth and that you’ll get fucked no matter what you’re drinking if you drink too much. That doesn’t really make for fun and flirty bar conversation. But just as you reach for a clean shot glass, she throws you for a loop (as if her presence tonight doesn’t already have your head spinning like you’ve been throwing back shots yourself).

“Take one with me?” She’s smiling again, though her lower lip is caught between her teeth. Oh, she’s _definitely_ flirting with you now. You glance at your shift partner tonight, Jenna, who is delivering the drink you just made to a table of two near the window.

“We’re not really supposed to,” you lean in, lowering your voice almost conspiratorially, “but… I’ve already bent the rules once. What’s twice?”

You love the smile that gets out of her, the deep humming sound she makes in her throat before erupting into a full-on giggle. It makes your skin prickle with a pleasant flush, your shoulders slump back with a newfound ease whilst you pour the two shots to the rim. You then push one towards her, keeping the other for yourself. Just as you’re lifting up your own glass, you give a sudden pause.

“There’s just one thing I need from you first,” you begin, staring her down without a hint of trepidation in your face.

“What’s that?” She peers up at you with her eyes crinkled up at the corners from squinting warily at you, her brow creased in the middle.

You smile easily. “Your name.”

Her soft pink lips pull into a gentle smile, eyes sparkling behind her lenses.

“Cosima.”

You bite your own lip now, nodding a little before clinking your shot against hers.

“Bottoms up, Cosima.”

You make the move to down your shot first, and Cosima hastily follows suit. You both scrunch your noses up at the feeling of the whisky going down, something akin to lava flowing down your throat, all the way to your stomach.

After recovering, Cosima says, “Don’t you have to tell me your name now or whatever? I mean, isn’t that how this whole thing works?”

You quickly hide the evidence of your minor transgression before Jenna can see, and turn away from Cosima only for a moment as the named coworker comes over with another order. Once she’s gone, you bestow most of your attention back on Cosima, the smaller percentage of it dedicated to mixing a Long Island.

“ _‘This whole thing’?_ ” you mimic, eyeing her with slightly lifted brow. “And what exactly would that be?”

Cosima breaks out into a bashful grin, tilting her head at you. “You know… you, saving me from what would have otherwise been a pretty _terrible_ night. I probably would have just walked on out of here when she didn’t show up—would’ve gone home, put on some Firefly and tried to forget the stinging pain of rejection with the help of some weed brownies.”

You slide a straw in the finished drink. “ _Firefly?_ Uh oh, nerd alert,” you tease lightly.

“Respectfully—I prefer the term _geek_.” She gives you a pointed but entirely unserious look before gulping down the rest of her unattended beer.

That earns an involuntary smile from you. You shake your head, scooping up some ice with a new glass.

“Well, I’m glad my whisky shot intervention spared you from wallowing at home with drug-laced treats and a space western,” you tell her sincerely. “Although… I have to say, weed brownies doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world right now.”

“I make the _best_ ,” Cosima brags, her second shot clearly starting to settle into her bones. “If you tried ‘em, you’d say they’re the best goddamn weed brownies you’ve ever had in your _entire_ life.”

You chuckle. “Weed brownies are all the same—and they’re just a means to an end anyway.”

Cosima seems offended—not personally—but on behalf of weed brownies everywhere. Her eyes have gone wide and her jaw is dropped almost comically. But she’s quick to pull herself together, and now simply shakes her head at you with pity. You tear away for a moment to deliver a cocktail to someone near you two, then turn back to Cosima.

“You’ve obviously never experienced a really good-ass batch of weed brownies, and for that, I’m sorry.” She then shrugs. “All I’m saying is, the experience of eating the brownies should be just as enjoyable as the effects of them. And, honestly, the same old dollar-store brownie mix everyone else uses just doesn’t cut it.”

“So, if you don’t use the _‘same old dollar-store brownie mix,’_ how do _you_ whip up a batch?”

You’re not really all that interested in learning the optimum way to make weed brownies, but you’d hate for this conversation to come to an end. If Cosima closes her tab and walks out that door, you know the rest of your shift will be dedicated to thinking about her, and wishing you hadn’t been on duty so you could spend the rest of the night just talking to her.

However, you notice a new kind of smile brimming on Cosima’s lips as you focus in on her again. It’s incredibly soft, a barely there quirk upward at the edges, and paired with her intense gaze… it’s incredibly _seductive_.

“I could show you,” she finally says, still watching you, waiting. “I was just thinking about heading out… why don’t you come with me?”

 **Bold**. That’s bold, and she seems to know it but is holding her ground pretty resiliently. What a difference from the jumpy woman you first noticed sitting at your bar now nearly an hour ago. It surprises you, but not really—you feel like you already knew what she was capable of, once you two started your exchange. You’ve just been waiting for it to slowly but surely creep out. And now it’s out, full-blown in the open, and you have a choice to make.

You stare for an extra-long several seconds, and just then Jenna approaches.

“Hey, Jenna, I’m actually starting to feel like I’m coming down with something,” you say with your eyes still laser-sharp focused on Cosima. “Could you take over the rest of my shift for me?”

She doesn’t even get to formulate a response before you toss your waist-apron off and start to exit from behind the bar. Cosima’s slapping down cash on the counter, and you throw a _“Thanks!”_ Jenna’s way as you hurry to the back to grab your coat and things.

In probably five minutes’ time, you’re outside the bar, thinking you just might have gotten yourself sacked but it’s totally, _completely_ worth it because Cosima is standing outside in a scarlet-red coat patiently waiting for you.

“Are you allowed to do that?” She’s concerned, but clearly happy you left with her, _for_ her.

“No.” You inhale deeply, letting the chilly Canada air fill up your lungs for a minute. “But I think you know by now that you’re worth breaking rules for.”

A hazy pink blush colors her olive cheeks, and you smile at her.

“By the way…” You step closer. “It’s [Name].”

She softens and extends an open hand. “Come on.”

Approximately one hour later, you and Cosima are sat in her apartment with a half-empty plate of brownies on the coffee table next to her small sofa. Firefly is running on the also small television in the background, but you’re both busy giggling together over some biology joke Cosima has made (despite the fact you know little to nothing about biology).

“You were so right,” you sigh, utterly relaxed in this moment. “Whipping them up from scratch makes them ten times better. And using coconut oil? _Genius_.” 

“Not to say I was right but… _I was right_.” Cosima grins lazily at you, drawing her bent leg up to her chest. You two stare at each other in silence for a few seconds (or it could have been minutes, for all you two knew) before she speaks up again.

“I’m glad you came with me,” she tells you sincerely. Her pupils are super dilated, and not that far away… in fact, her face is only centimeters apart from yours. She’s close enough you can see the bursts of brown in her deep green irises—you could almost dip your finger in the same way Cosima swirled hers in brownie batter earlier. Watching her finger slipped past her lips to lick it off, you’d almost asked her to put it in your mouth instead.

“Me too,” you admit. “Even if I might not have a job anymore come tomorrow…"

Cosima’s eyes go wide. “Shit, dude, I—I don’t wanna be the reason you lose your _job_!”

For some reason, her panic over the matter makes you guffaw, and Cosima herself gives an unseemly snort after a second.

“It’s okay,” you say while calming yourself, your hand falling on her thigh. Her eyes flicker down, and when she looks back up, she realizes your eyes are trained on her lips. “I think I know how you can make it worth it.”

She knows too. Cosima jolts forward, planting a hand on the side of your face and latching her mouth onto yours. The first thing you notice is the taste of chocolate on her tongue, paired with the remnants of two whisky shots. Then it’s the sound of her inhaling sharply through her nose, filling her lungs back up with all the air you seem to have stolen.

Your senses are overwhelmed by her, and maybe part of it has to do with the weed, but it’s not a bad thing either. You press your fingers hard into her thigh and lean forward. Cosima welcomes the advance, letting herself fall back into several patterned pillows while guiding you to follow. You brace yourself on the sofa with your leg between hers, and in the shifting, your thigh happens to brush against her core.

Cosima breathes hot against your mouth, bucking her hips up in an instant reaction. Before you can think of what to do next, Cosima says quickly, “Wait.”

You pull back from her and she works desperately to tug off the cute boho top she’s wearing down to a silver blue bralette, and you’re so transfixed by the sight of exposed skin that you momentarily freeze up.

A sudden laugh pulls you from your reverie and you look up into her face and see that Cosima is incredibly amused.

“You good there?” she teases, and you laugh at yourself, shaking your head.

“Oh, definitely,” you grin, already tugging your black tee up and over your head. You two share a few more giggles as you finish undressing each other down to underwear.

“I think that’s _way_ better, don’t you?” Cosima murmurs with a sexy little smirk on her lips as you lean over her again, your hand raking down her chest to her stomach. You show your agreement by kissing her again, your arm positioned between your bodies as your hand runs along the inside of her thigh.

Cosima hums a soft sound of contentment at this, her hands gliding across your back to find your bra strap. She deftly undoes the snaps and tugs the garment off, dropping it somewhere near. You shiver but keep a steady course with your fingers, allowing them to trail up to the edge of her underwear. Cosima tears her lips from yours, and you tilt your head at her in wonder but realize her intent the moment her eyes fall downward.

She leans up and forward to kiss your sternum repeatedly, though her mouth doesn’t stay in one place. You glide your fingers over the outside of her underwear, able to distinguish the delicate outline of her folds even with the material covering her. Cosima hums again, though this time it seems to transition into more of a moan, and your muscles reflexively tighten in want.

“You like that?” you ask with a little smile, and she makes a sound of agreement with her lips against your skin. Her mouth brushes over your nipple and it instantly hardens for her. You squeeze her shoulder with the hand that’s steadying you, eyes rolling back for a moment as you bask in the sensation.

 _“You like that?”_ she mimics, glancing up at you with mischief in her eyes.

“Fuck, yes.”

A soft laugh before she dives back in, and you remember to move your hand again. Now you slide it under the band of her underwear, fingers gliding through coarse hair to explore new territory. Not that vaginas are new to you, but _hers_ is, and you wanna be familiar with every inch of her so you can make her night ten times better than her date would’ve.

Cosima lifts her hips into your hand, clearly anxious for a little more action. You tug haphazardly at the material to get it out of the way, and in doing so, you accidentally tear it.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you say instantly in alarm, and Cosima shakes her head, grasping your face in her hands and pulling you in for a sensual kiss.

“I don’t even give a shit, don’t stop.”

Glad to know she won’t mind having to buy another pair of underwear, you go back to it, making sure she’s exposed enough for you to do what you want. Cosima returns to kissing and sucking on your breasts, her hands groping your ass while she does so. She’s just as wet as you think you probably are by now, and you test her slickness first with your middle finger.

You press the pad of your finger in just enough to swipe the wetness up and through her folds, swirling it all around her clitoris. Cosima digs her fingers into your ass and grazes her teeth against your sensitive bud, challenging you back. You keep your focus, sliding first your middle finger in to test the waters. She’s so wet it slides in with ease, and after letting her get used to that you slide in your ring finger, too.

Cosima shudders at the fuller sensation. Your thumb finds her sensitive nub to rub over it slowly, and you push your fingers in deeper. Cosima squirms a little, though clearly not in discomfort because she moans loudly at the same time. It’s almost overwhelming, and you have to remind yourself to keep focused before you melt into a puddle right on top of her.

“ _Fuck me_ ,” she says in a groan, and she’s not just overwhelmed too—she’s giving you directions. Gladly, you quicken your pace, trying to ensure you maintain stimulation on her clit while pretty much pounding into her. Her head is tilted all the way back in ecstasy now, cat-lined eyes fluttering shut like she just can’t help it. You bend up and in to kiss her hotly before sloppily foraging the skin of her jaw and neck with greedy lips.

Your hand is cramping just a little, but you grit your teeth and keep at it, needing desperately to send Cosima toppling over the edge. She lets slip more pleased moans, squeezing her brows together as she gets closer.

“Cum for me,” you murmur while kissing her skin some more, skimming your nose over the curve of her jaw. “Cum for me, Cosima… you’re almost there.”

Her lower lip slides between her pearly white teeth, fingers digging into your back while her hips raise up a bit. She’s practically buzzing as it is, and then her whole body just tenses up and her back arches away from the sofa. A jumble of curses falls from her lips as her walls clench around you, and you slow down but don’t quite stop as it racks her body with relentlessness. She goes limp and sinks back into the couch, opening her eyes to find your face.

You’ve finally stopped because you can tell she’s sensitive to the touch, jolting just a little as you remove your fingers. You must look satisfied or smug or both because she breaks out into a grin, apples of her cheeks flushed, and giggles.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” she begins with, biting her lip again as she shifts slightly under you. “I don’t know if it was the orgasm or the weed, but I kinda feel like I floated outside of my body there for a second.”

“It was probably both,” you offer teasingly, leaning in to kiss her while she laughs again against your mouth.

“Hm,” she pretends to mull it over. “From a scientific standpoint, we can’t really say for certain without another test.” Lust glimmers in her eyes still as she looks up at you, a smirk on her lips.

“Well, if it’s for science, I’m happy to take part in a second trial,” you bat your lashes at her, a cheeky grin on your face. 

“Mm, good. Because this time, _you’re_ the test subject…”


End file.
